The Runaway Bride's Secret Billionaire Protector
I sat before the vanity in a lace dress that cost more than a mid-sized sedan, but to me, it felt like a burial shroud. I was the sacrifice being offered to the Ortega family, a human payment for my father’s debts and failing company.
When I tried to refuse, my stepmother forced a glass of drugged champagne into my hand and threatened to destroy me. She whispered that if I didn't marry the "monster" Cooper Ortega, she’d release psychiatric records proving I was a mental patient who hallucinated a child that never existed.
I escaped by jumping out of a speeding limo, tumbling into a ditch and losing everything but my life. A mysterious, scarred driver in a beat-up Ford saved me, but when I limped back home, my father threw me out like trash. My own sister stood in the foyer, wearing my engagement ring and clinging to Lance, the man who had promised to protect me.
"You're a sinking ship, Fran," my father sneered before locking the gates. Then I found the recording—my stepmother’s voice complaining that the doctor wanted more money because my baby had cried before they took him away. My son wasn't stillborn; he was stolen by the people I called family.
I was broken, homeless, and hunted, with only a "poor" driver named Cooper to help me. I didn't know he was actually the billionaire monster I had jumped out of a car to avoid, but I moved into his cramped studio anyway.
I’m starting a war with nothing but a cracked phone and a mother’s rage. They took my life and they took my son, so now I’m going to take everything they have left.
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Chapter 6
The Blue Velvet was dark, loud, and smelled of expensive perfume and regret.
Francesca sat in a booth in the back, nursing a glass of water. Anna was next to her, rubbing her back.
"They are garbage," Anna said for the tenth time. "Human garbage."
Francesca stared at the table. She felt hollowed out.
"I need a drink," Francesca said.
"You have a concussion," Anna warned.
"I don't care."
Anna signaled the waiter. "Two whiskeys. Doubles."
Francesca's phone buzzed. A text message. From Janeen.
Why does she still have this number?
It was a voice memo.
Francesca's thumb hovered over the play button.
"Don't," Anna said.
"I have to know," Francesca whispered.
She pressed play.
Janeen's voice, tinny and distorted, cut through the bar noise.
"Oh, one more thing, dear. Since you're already at rock bottom. That doctor in Switzerland? The one who said it was a stillbirth? He sent a letter to your father's office today. A blackmail attempt. He says he has records proving the child was born alive. That he cried. He wants more money to keep quiet about where we sent him."
The phone slipped from Francesca's hand. It clattered onto the sticky table.
Time stopped. The music faded. The laughter of the crowd became a distant hum.
He cried.
Stillborn babies don't cry.
Dead babies don't cry.
"Did you hear that?" Francesca whispered. Her voice was barely audible.
Anna picked up the phone, her face pale. "Fran..."
"He cried," Francesca said. The shock was cracking, revealing a core of molten lava underneath. "They told me he was dead. They showed me a... a bundle."
"They lied," Anna breathed. "Oh my god, Fran. They stole your baby."
Francesca grabbed the whiskey glass. She downed it in one swallow. The burn felt good. It felt like fuel.
"He's alive," she said. She wasn't crying anymore. Her eyes were dry and hard. "My son is alive. And they... they gave him away? Sold him?"
"We'll find him," Anna said, gripping her hand. "We will burn the world down to find him."
A commotion at the entrance.
Laughter. Loud, obnoxious laughter.
Francesca looked up.
Lance walked in. He was wearing a tuxedo. And hanging on his arm, in a shimmering silver dress, was Dollie.
They were celebrating.
Francesca felt a physical blow to her chest.
Lance looked around, scanning the room for admirers. His eyes landed on the back booth.
He froze.
Dollie followed his gaze. She smirked. She whispered something in Lance's ear and pulled him toward the booth.
"Don't," Lance muttered, trying to hold back.
"No, let's say hi to my sister," Dollie chirped.
They stopped at the table.
"Celebrating your freedom, Fran?" Dollie asked, flashing the diamond ring. It caught the dim light, mocking her.
Anna stood up. "Get the hell away from here."
"Relax, Anna," Lance said. He looked at Francesca. There was no pity in his eyes. Only annoyance. "You look like a mess, Fran."
"You stole my life," Francesca said. She stood up slowly.
"You gave it away," Lance sneered. "You were always too weak for this world. Too emotional. That's why your father chose Dollie. She knows how to play the game."
"The game?" Francesca laughed. It was a terrifying sound. "You think this is a game?"
She reached for Anna's whiskey glass. Full to the brim.
"Francesca, don't," Lance warned.
Francesca threw it.
The amber liquid splashed squarely into Dollie's face. Ice cubes hit her forehead.
Dollie shrieked like a banshee. "My eyes! My dress!"
Lance shoved Francesca. Hard.
She stumbled back, hitting the wall.
"You crazy bitch!" Lance raised his hand.
From the shadowed corner of the bar, a large figure detached himself from the wall. He had been watching them since they walked in.
The bouncer stepped forward, but the man in the shadows moved faster.
Cooper stepped between them. He didn't touch Lance. He just stood there, a wall of kinetic violence waiting to happen.
"Problem here?" Cooper asked, his voice low.
"She assaulted my fiancée!" Lance yelled.
Cooper looked at Francesca, then at Lance. He turned his back on Lance, facing Francesca. "Time to go."
Lance, feeling ignored and humiliated, reached out to grab Cooper's shoulder. "Hey, I'm talking to you!"
Cooper didn't even turn. He simply shifted his weight, and as Lance lunged, Cooper hooked his foot behind Lance's ankle.
Lance stumbled, flailing, and crashed to the floor in a heap of tuxedo and humiliation.
The bar erupted in laughter.
Francesca looked at the man. Cooper. She knew it instantly. He had been here the whole time.
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8.2
In a kingdom ruled by shadow magic, elemental fire wielders were slaughtered decades ago after a devastating rebellion.
Christabel is the last surviving Flamebound.
Prince William is the heir to the throne that ordered her people's execution.
When an ancient magic awakens one older than both flame and shadow they are forced into an alliance that neither of them wants.
But their powers react when they touch.
And prophecy whispers that only together can they save the kingdom...
Or burn it down.
8.0
I sat at a table for two in the center of Le Coucou, clutching a gift box that had cost me two months of savings. It was our three-year anniversary, and I was waiting for Gavin to finally ask the big question.
But when the heavy oak doors opened, Gavin didn't walk toward me with a ring. He walked in with a polished blonde heiress tucked under his arm, her hand resting protectively over a small baby bump.
"This is Tiffany Stone. My fiancée," he said, his voice devoid of any warmth. He didn't apologize for being late or for the three years we'd spent together. Instead, he pulled out a checkbook, scribbled a number, and slid a ten-thousand-dollar check across the white tablecloth.
"Consider it severance for your time," he added, as Tiffany mocked my cheap drugstore dress. "Don't contact me again. Tiffany doesn't need the stress." I was the entertainment for the entire restaurant—the pathetic girl dumped for a better model. By the time I walked out into the rain, I had lost my boyfriend, my home, and the funding for my secret medical research project.
I was an orphan with no safety net, facing an eviction notice and a ruined career. I had given Gavin everything, and he had discarded me like a broken tool. The injustice burned in my chest, a hot, sharp rage that replaced my tears.
Desperate and freezing, I ducked into a coffee shop where I met Colton Bentley, a reclusive billionaire in a wheelchair. After I defended him from a cruel date, he offered me a contract: a marriage of convenience and a seven-figure payment to act as his shield. I signed the papers that night, ready to use his wealth to rebuild my life. But as I watched my new husband navigate his penthouse, I noticed his "paralyzed" legs tense with a strength that shouldn't exist.
9.3
For three years, Evelyn Harper was the perfect invisible wife, brilliant architect who anonymously poured revolutionary designs into her cold CEO husband Alexander Knight's company, building his billion-dollar empire while being dismissed as useless by him and his family.
When he hands her divorce papers expecting tears, she signs with a calm smile and walks away taking back her genius.
What Alexander never knew: every award-winning project, every stock surge, every headline praising his vision was hers.
Now, as Elara Voss, Evelyn returns stronger than ever surrounded by powerful men who truly see her, winning landmark contracts, and watching rivals tremble at her name.
Alexander wakes to regret too late: his crumbling empire, the secret twins he never knew existed, the woman he lost.
He begs for forgiveness, offers everything to start over, even kneels publicly in humiliation.
But Evelyn demands justice: full credit, billions in royalties, and control.
As old enemies scheme violently out of jealousy and his world falls, Alexander fights to prove change, while Evelyn builds an untouchable new empire on her terms.
Co-parenting begins. Old sparks flicker. Forgiveness debates rage in her heart.
Will she allow slow reconciliation for their brilliant twins?
Or close the door forever on the man who once owned her world?
7.3
Sign the papers and disappear. You were never one of us."
Those were the last words Seraphina Cole heard before the Ashford dynasty erased her existence.
They took her marriage.
They stole her unborn child with lies and cruelty.
They branded her unstable, unworthy, disposable, then dumped her into the shadows with nothing but grief and shame.
The Ashfords thought she broke.
They never bothered to check if she survived.
Three years later, Seraphina returns under a new name Rina Vale, silent partner of the Vale Consortium, a trillion-naira global empire that controls shipping lanes, tech patents, and political favors. Cold. Calculated. Untouchable.
This time, she isn't asking for love.
She's collecting debts.
Her ex-husband wants forgiveness when he realizes who she is? She'll bankrupt his legacy.
Her former mother-in-law prays for mercy? Rina will expose the secrets buried beneath her charity foundations.
The family that murdered her child with negligence and lies? She'll tear them apart boardroom by boardroom.
And standing beside her is Lucien Drake, a dangerous, brilliant billionaire with his own vendetta against the elite. He doesn't want to save her.
He wants to help her burn them all.
She didn't come back to heal.
She came back to conquer.
7.7
Kiara Watson had lived an unhappy life with her family, always overshadowed by her sister, Cloe, who stole all the attention with her beauty.
However, Kiara's fate took an unexpected turn when, by mistake and out of obligation, she found herself linked to Archie Villarreal, the man who caused a sensation in the most powerful family, the Villarreals.
A dirty trick by Cloe awakened the fury of billionaire Archie. For Kiara, being Cloe's twin became her greatest sin.
She received cruel punishment from Archie, who would do everything in his power to keep her from escaping, creating a stormy and passionate game of love and vehemence.
9.8
To secure a drama-free marriage, cold billionaire Lucas Lancaster demands a wife who wants convenience, not love. Heartbroken Sophia Bennett fits his criteria perfectly. After their wedding, Lucas flies to Europe, keeping their relationship strictly professional. But distance changes everything. When a tipsy Sophia accidentally mutters her ex’s name during a rare, passionate embrace, the ice prince completely loses his cool. Consumed by jealousy, Lucas begs her to forget the past and love him. In this captivating billionaire romance novel, he is the first to fall—and he falls hard.